


the guard dog of all your fever dreams

by akaiiko



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern, Dog Hybrid Keith (Voltron), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern with Scifi Elements, Service Dog Keith (Voltron), Veteran Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaiiko/pseuds/akaiiko
Summary: Shiro's VA appointed therapist suggests he get a Hybrid to help with his PTSD. Nothing else has worked—it feels like the war will never leave him—so he goes to the shelter.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 262





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> these were originally twitter threads posted back in the summer of 2019. finally getting a permanent home here. good for them.

Shiro's VA appointed therapist suggests he get a Hybrid to help with his PTSD. Nothing else has worked—it feels like the war will never leave him—so he goes to the shelter.

The staff are wonderfully reassuring. They have a number of Hybrids that would be perfect for someone like him. Sensible, and obedient, and gentle. It won't be an issue to find him a match. But meeting each Hybrid feels like going through the motions in the worst way.

Civilian life is surreal. He stands at crosswalks and thinks of where a bomber would position for maximum damage but everyone else just sees a fucking lunch rush crowd waiting for the light to turn. This is like that, but worse because this is supposed to _fix_ him. It's not the Hybrids' fault. They're everything the staff promised and he likes them, but he can't imagine letting them into his home or allowing them to hold him after a flashback.

By the time they bring the last staff-approved Hybrid in, he knows it's a bust. At least he tried. Allura, the shelter manager, apologizes profusely. She has contacts at other shelters. If he'd like, she can pull some strings, bring in other options. He thanks her, because he's not a dick and the offer is kind. But he doesn't want to try again, he wants to go home.

While Allura goes to get him brochures— _"Just in case you change your mind!"_ —her assistant looks him over. Romelle has been unfailingly cheerful, but there's something about the way she assesses him now that makes him fall into parade rest. Finally she nods. "I've got it."

"Got what?"

Instead of answering, she says, "Follow me," and walks through a door marked Staff Only.

For a solid three seconds his instincts (never follow someone into unknown territory) war with politeness (follow when someone asks you to). Politeness, or at least curiosity, wins.

Romelle leads him deep into the shelter. They're in the Hybrids' living quarters, which are achingly similar to the barracks in Iraq with their bunked beds and common areas. Hybrids watching them pass but don't approach. It all dead ends at a locked door. Fiddling with the key—the first sign of nerves he's seen from her—Romelle says, "We have another Hybrid right now. Canine based. A Belgian Tervuren, actually. They're beautiful. _He's_ beautiful. And very brave. And loyal."

"And I wasn't introduced to him because...?"

More key fiddling. "He's not adoptable. Strictly speaking."

Shiro feels like he's missing something. Fuck that, he feels like he's missing a lot of somethings. But Romelle is looking at him so earnestly, and there'd been real adoration in her voice talking about the Hybrid. "Okay, sure, let's meet him," he says. Because it's not like his day can get any worse.

The way she beams at him suggests he just created world peace instead of agreeing to meet an unadoptable hybrid. As she unlocks the door, she says, "By the way, we don't know his name."

Before Shiro can ask how the fuck they don't know the Hybrid's name, the door swings open to reveal a dark room with a single bed. "You remember the way back to the front, right? Great. I'll leave you two to get acquainted!"

And then before he can protest, she's gone. Truth is, he's not very experienced with Hybrids. Most of the ones he's interacted with are pampered housepets. Sort of like the ones he met earlier. He's got no frame of reference for this. But his staff sergeant always said he had more guts than sense, so Shiro heads in.

Five steps in, a low growl comes from under the bed. He stills. The growl mutes but doesn't disappear entirely. Weirdly, it's not a threatening sound. Maybe he's going to pay for thinking that when the Hybrid bites. But for now, he figures the benefit of the doubt can't hurt.

"Hey there," he says. Keeps his voice gentle but firm. "My name's Shiro. I came here to look for a Hybrid. Romelle thought we should meet."

This doesn't net him a response, exactly. But the growl mutes further, almost gone, and there's a rustle like the Hybrid's resettling. During his last tour—the one that took his arm and his career and maybe his sanity—he got hit with an IED that jarred his spine along with everything else. Hours standing around meeting Hybrids have taken their toll. "I'm going to sit. Growl twice if you'll maul me for it."

There's no growl. Shiro takes the win.

It's takes him longer than he'd like to sink to the floor and get himself settled comfortably with his back to the wall. When he does, he realizes he can see the shape of the Hybrid beneath the bed. He grins. "Thanks for not mauling me."

The Hybrid chuffs. Shiro's grin widens, because fuck yeah he's funny.

Comfortable silence falls. Reaching up, he absently palms his shoulder where the scar tissue meets prosthetic. The ache never really goes away, even if he lies to the docs and says it's fine and _he's_ fine. Honestly, he's not expecting another reaction. But as he's pressing down on scar tissue and restraining a hiss, the Hybrid lets out a soft whine. Like a question. "It's fine," he says on automatic.

The Hybrid growls. Twice. Little shit.

Shiro gives in. "War wound."

Another whine. More surprisingly, the Hybrid shuffles forward. Not all the way out from under the bed, but enough that the light from the open doorway catches on his eyes and reveals the shape of his canine ears. Which are pricked forward attentively toward Shiro.

Well, fuck. "I got it in Iraq," he says, holding out his prosthetic to the Hybrid. "IED."

Shiro's not sure what to expect, but it's not the Hybrid shuffling forward _again_ to nose at his fingertips. All the air leaves his lungs. Last time he felt like this a mortar landed too damn close. The Hybrid's eyes are indigo. He's never seen anyone, human or Hybrid, with eyes like that. Shaggy black hair frames a surprisingly delicate face with high cheekbones. Romelle wasn't kidding. He's a beauty, and Shiro's got an almost uncontrollable urge to coo nonsense praise. Self-preservation kicks in just in time to prevent embarrassment.

"Hey there," he says again. The words come out softer than before. Almost a croon. The Hybrid notices, of course, and wrinkles his adorable nose. Forget self-preservation, Shiro is so, so, _so_ incredibly fucked. Might as well go all in. "Can I pet your ears?" he asks. The Hybrid eyes him, and Shiro grins before teasing, "Growl twice if you'll maul me for it."

_That_ gets him an eyeroll. And the Hybrid shuffling forward a few more inches to press his head into Shiro's palm

It's an unexpected blessing and Shiro takes it with both hands. Literally. Soft hair and even softer fur brushes against his palms as he rubs the Hybrid's ears. Shiro focuses on the base of the ears, mostly because when he does he can hear the steady thump of the Hybrid's tail. He could do this forever, he thinks. (Wishes.)

Time slips past too easily. Eventually his arms start to ache from the awkward angle.

The Hybrid must notice the strain, because he finally gives in and crawls the rest of the way out from under the bed, straight into Shiro's lap. Shiro's heart gives an awful, wrenching twist as the air punches out of his lungs again.

Out in the light, he can see why they think the Hybrid is unadoptable. Wiry with muscle, a nick in one ear, fangs catching on his lower lip. An embodied reminder that dogs come from wolves. But he's so sweet as he looks up at Shiro with those impossible eyes. Without thinking about the consequences—how teeth might sink into his arm and how he might deserve it—he gathers the Hybrid up into his arms. The tail he heard earlier thumps against his legs, now.

The Hybrid licks his jaw, and Shiro lets out a breathless laugh before nuzzling back. They're tangled up in each other. He feels weighted into his body in a way he hasn't in months. Maybe years. "You got a name, pup?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over the nick in the Hybrid's ear.

"Keith. I'm Keith."

Shiro feels more laughter bubbling up in his chest, like the way he felt after his commissioning when he got his first taste of champagne. Burying his face in Keith's hair, he asks the only other question that matters: "Will you come home with me?"

"Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now we get keef's pov. he's a good pupper, brent.

Ever since he got brought in, wrists raw from the cuffs and ear still bleeding freely, they've kept him in the back room. For his own 'safety.'

Keith tries not to resent them. It's not like they're unkind, even if Allura insists the staff carry a whistle that hurts his ears any time they're in the room with him. 'Just in case.' Keith _does_ resent that.

No matter what they think, he's not a rabid animal. He's _not_.

Romelle is the nicest of them. She's often on the night shift, and after she gets the other Hybrids settled she'll sit in his doorway and tell him about the classes she's taking at the local university. Romelle never carries a whistle unless Allura's on shift to make her. It's Romelle who tells him that he's been classed as 'unadoptable.' Keith's not surprised when she tells him. Three months in, he's never been brought out to the front for the meet and greets. "You deserve a home," she tells him earnestly. "Don't worry, I'll find someone."

Keith flicks his ear, then, and tells her not to bother. Seems like a waste of time to him. Besides, she already breaks protocol for him enough. Going behind Allura's back to find him a human is stupid.

But when she brings someone, two months after that, he gives it a chance. The human is male, mid to late twenties, with a prosthetic so well made that the gears' whirring is almost inaudible to even Keith's ears. He smells like scar tissue and long nightmares not quite shaken off the next morning. His voice is a low rumble. He is painfully handsome. Keith takes in all of this from beneath the bed, where he hid as soon as he heard unfamiliar footsteps in the hallway.

Time on the streets taught him quick judgments. He decides this human is good, with enough sense to respect his growl but enough guts to reach out anyway.

At the shelter, they call Hybrids 'companions' and their humans 'guardians.' Which is really just a nicer way of saying 'pets' and 'owners.' By Keith's figuring, it's a PR move. Part of why he's unadoptable is he doesn't want an owner. Or a guardian.

The human's name is Shiro. It's obvious he's in pain, and he's tired, and he's sad. But his voice stays gentle and his sense of humor is terrible and he's good. When he offers his hand, Keith isn't afraid to shuffle forward a few inches and sniff delicately at metal fingertips.

Closer in, Shiro smells like a dozen other Hybrids. Most of them milk soft pets desperate to offer comfort. Of course. Even a pup could tell that the human needs comfort.

Keith is not comforting, but Shiro wants it from him anyway and it's not so bad to let himself be petted. After that, when Shiro's arms start to tremble and his scent tinges with pain again, it's just instinct to crawl out from under the bed and into Shiro's lap. There's a sharp burst of scent then—warm and needy—before heavily muscled arms curl around him. Keith doesn't cuddle. Letting anyone in this close is giving them a chance to rip his throat out. But Shiro is _so_ happy, and his fingers are reverently gentle as they smooth over Keith's skin.

It would take a mutt crueler than Keith to deny him this. Maybe that's not the entire truth. Keith isn't a good Hybrid. Not in the way most everyone judges Hybrids. He's not a _pet_. He's an unadoptable beast, tolerated by socially progressive shelter workers. Except with this human who's stupidly decided that Keith is good for him.

Tail thumping against Shiro's legs, Keith leans up and licks at his chin. It gets an almost wounded laugh. Keith would worry he did something wrong except Shiro immediately nuzzles back. Asks for his name. Offers to take him home.

And Keith does not want an owner, but...

"Yes."

"Guess I better go fill out paperwork, then," Shiro says. He's grinning so hard that the corners of his eyes crinkle. "And you better pack."

Keith flicks an ear, uneasy. "I don't have anything."

A pause. Shiro palms the back of his head gently. "Okay. We'll go shopping then."

Owning a Hybrid is expensive. Even from a shelter, the adoption and registration fees run into the thousands. Add in the cost of food, clothing, bedding, and collaring… Worry curls in Keith's gut. Shiro isn't dressed like he has money to burn. "We don't have to. I'm fine."

"I'm not saying you can't borrow my clothes, but I don't think they'll fit."

No. No they probably wouldn't. "But..."

"Don't worry, Keith," Shiro says. His voice is firm, and it's obvious he won't back down. Keith huffs in submission. "Good. Let's go deal with the paperwork."

Leaving the room he's spent the last several months in should probably be harder. It's meant to be his den. But he doesn't feel anything in particular as he follows Shiro out into the hallway.

Keith _does_ feel something when they start to get into the populated areas. Crowding closer to Shiro's side, he keeps a wary eye on all the Hybrids. They're cowed by him: eyes dropping, tails tucking, high whines caught in their throats. Some of them have familiar scents. Not because he's met them personally, but because _Shiro_ met them. Keith growls.

"Easy." Shiro's hand settling at the small of Keith's back, just above his bristling tail. "They're not a threat." No, they're not. Or at least they're not physical threats.

Forcing down the growl still building in his chest, Keith crowds even closer to Shiro. Like he senses Keith's nerves—which probably isn't hard even with dull human senses—Shiro stops them by the staff door. Beyond it, the lobby bustles with afternoon traffic. Against his will, Keith's ears flatten into his hair.

He's too expensive. He's not a good pet. He's unadoptable. He's—

"I never left my squadmates behind," Shiro says. Keith blinks up at him, ears twitching in confusion. "In Iraq. I never left someone behind."

"Okay," Keith says, since a response seems expected.

"Okay," Shiro says. "So believe me: I'm not going home today without you."

Unbidden, Keith's tail wags. He flushes, feeling like a stupid ungainly pup, but he can't stop his tail speeding up until his entire body almost shakes with it. Especially because Shiro's smiling at him. It's been so long since anyone wanted to take him home. A lifetime, maybe. Even so, he knows he won't settle until the paperwork is signed and his chip is reprogrammed to Shiro. Until then the shelter owns him. Can send him back to that locked room, where he'll never see Shiro again. He really hopes Allura isn't in the lobby.

She's in the lobby.

They've barely made it three steps in before she hands off the family she'd been speaking with to another worker. "My office," she says, crisp and icy.

Shiro's hand is still at the small of Keith's back. He leans down, brushing his lips over pinned back ears. "It'll be okay." There's nothing Keith can say to that. At least nothing that Shiro will want to hear. Instead he grits his teeth and lets himself be guided into Allura's pristine office.

The room looks just like it did the last time he was here—when they were handling his intake. Allura shuts the door and gestures toward the chairs. "Please, sit. I believe we may be here a while."

Shiro sits. The room has another guest chair, and a kneeling bad for more traditionally inclined Hybrids. Keith ignores both in favor of settling onto Shiro's lap again. Tucking his face into Shiro's neck, he ignores the sudden looming silence in favor of scenting his human. It doesn't take long for Shiro to catch on. An arm wraps around his waist. Heavy and steadying. It's good for the both of them. Shiro needs the comfort, and Keith needs the safety.

Allura clears her throat. "Would you please explain to me how..." A cough. " _This_ happened?"

"Romelle took me into the back." Pressed close as they are, Keith can feels the tension cording Shiro's muscles despite his easy tone. "Said she thought I should meet Keith."

"Keith?"

If possible, Shiro tenses even further. "Right," he says. "You don't know his name." Somehow he makes it sound like an accusation.

Obviously Allura takes it as one. "We asked him on multiple occasions. He didn't see fit to share."

"He saw fit to share with me."

"Apparently."

They're getting sidetracked. Keith's not sure why—he shares his name when he wants to—but he knows that if they fight everything falls apart. Allura will keep him here to prove a point. Carefully he turns to face her. Gets her measure. Says: "I want to go home. With Shiro."

In all the time he's been at the shelter, he's never seen Allura's eyes go wide like they do now. "Oh," she says. Almost to herself. There's a pause, and she leans back in her chair while her hands fold on her lap. "I... I see."

"I'd like to take him home. We're a good fit."

Mouth pressing into a small moue, Allura says, "Perhaps, but..."

"Maybe I should rephrase that." The odd thing, Keith thinks, is that Shiro's arms should feel like a threat. A cage. They're tight around him. But mostly he just feels wanted. Safe. "I'm taking him home with me."

"I'm going home with him," Keith repeats. His tail wags twice, still involuntary, and he feels Shiro hide a smile in his hair.

Today is a day of miracles, because Allura's composure cracks enough for her to rub at her forehead tiredly. "Please understand. I am not trying to..." She pauses, as though searching for the right words. "I am not trying to be difficult for the sake of it. I have a right to be concerned. You came in here with a very specific set of needs, Mr. Shirogane. I showed you all the Hybrids I believe could fit those needs." Holding up a forestalling hand, she goes on. "There is a _reason_ he—Keith—was not included in those introductions. He's had a very rough time in life. He's _not_ equipped to handle you."

Keith growls, ears pinning back as he settles deeper against Shiro's too still body. No, he's not comforting. Not a milk soft pup. Not a _pet_. But. "I'm good for Shiro," he says. It doesn't feel entirely true—he's not good for anyone—but he wants it to be. Will work harder than he ever has in his life for it to be. "He asked me to come home and I said yes."

"Keith... Mr. Shirogane came here to look for a companion to help him deal with—"

"The war," he says. "I know." When she simply looks at him—still so fucking sympathetic, like she looked when he came in still breathing through blood and snapping at shadows—he growls again. "If you don't let him adopt me I'll run away." Keith means it as a threat, but it has the weight of a vow. He'd do it, he realizes. They couldn't keep him here if he was determined, and he could follow Shiro's scent across the world if he had to. "I'm going home with him."

Shiro finally moves again, nuzzling against his ears and wrapping both arms around his waist. "Thank you," he says, quiet enough that Keith knows it's just meant for him.

For her part, Allura rubs at her forehead again before pulling out an absurdly thick stack of paperwork. It takes almost two hours to get through all of it. Keith—unnamed, unchipped, and unadoptable according to the system—requires multiple addendums on Shiro's part. The shelter has officially closed by the time the last dotted line is signed.

"Congratulations are in order," she says. Elegant hands sort through the paperwork rapidly until she pushes a sizeable stack toward Shiro. "For your records. If you take Keith to the HRC tomorrow, you'll be able to get his chip reprogrammed. Otherwise, he is entirely yours."

"And I'm his," Shiro says.

It's a stupid thing to say—more sentiment than fact—but Keith can't help the puppyish yip that leaves him then. Or his tail, wagging yet _again_. Or his urge to dive against Shiro, hard enough to send the man staggering before he rights them both. When he looks at Allura again, there's an unfamiliar softness to her expression. "I hope you both are very happy," she says, and he even thinks she means it.

She lets them both out, the doors having been locked while they were still dealing with paperwork. It's the first time Keith's been outside unrestricted since he was brought in. The world seems bigger now. Rich with scents and sounds and sights. Less frightening, too. He wants to run, just to feel the stretch and burn in his legs, but he wants to stay close to Shiro more. He wonders if Shiro likes to run—if they'll go on long morning jogs and longer afternoon hikes. He hopes so, but he thinks he'd be okay with couch cuddles too.

"Ready to go home?" Shiro asks. He's standing next to a black truck, nervously jingling the keys in his hand.

Keith nods, throat tight. Inside the truck is warm. The seats are soft and smell like spruce trees. Keith buckles himself in, then ignores all safety laws to lay across the front seat and put his head on Shiro's lap. A hand rubs at his nicked ear. He thinks they're gonna be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find more threads like this on [twitter](https://twitter.com/akaiikowrites). you can also find bitchin' art like [these adorable pupper keefs](https://twitter.com/slouph_art/status/1161857654446153734) by **@ slouph**.


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